Lack of Immortality
by ASF13957
Summary: Barty Crouch Jr. has never had good luck with friends.  Warning: has some dark/depressing content.  Please R&R.
1. Chapter 1

Hello. So, some warnings about this story: firstly, it has an OC. They're most definitely not a self-insert; they're named Maude and they die. That's another warning, I suppose, for character death. For the last warning, yes, this story is quite, quite dark. I promise the next thing I write will be lighter.

Also, a note on how this story is arranged: I wrote it as a one-shot, before realizing it was more than nine thousand words long. Thus, I divided it into chapters, but the chapter ends and beginnings may seem odd, because as I originally wrote it there were no chapters. I won't be putting author's notes at the beginning and end of each chapter either.

Temporal explanation: This takes place a long time before the series, during the first war with Voldemort. The Marauders are in their sixth year.

Rating: T for angst, mild language, and dark/depressing content.

Disclaimer: As always, I don't own anything HP-specific.

* * *

Barty picked up his homework and departed the Ravenclaw common room. He found it difficult to concentrate surrounded by the loud chattering and cheerful conversations of his fellow students. He headed off in the direction of the dungeons; while deserted classrooms in other areas of the castle were all too often inhabited by groups of students illicitly sharing Zonko's products, or professors anxiously discussing the war against Voldemort, or couples engaged in… whatever couples did, the dungeons were generally considered too cold and damp for comfort.

He gently pushed open a door and glanced around the classroom within. Cobwebs trailed from the ceiling, and all the chairs were overturned and placed on the desks, but apart from that it appeared perfectly habitable. He entered the room, carefully counted rows and columns of desks until he located the one in the exact center, and then removed the chair resting upon it. He set this down before the desk, ensuring it was completely symmetrical with the desk's edges, then sorted his homework into little piles and assembled them on the desk's surface.

A number of hours later, he gathered up the completed homework and stacked it carefully, replacing the chair in its position upon the desk. Approaching the door to depart the classroom, he was surprised to encounter another person entering it. He dropped the meticulously arranged homework, and it scattered disorderedly all over the cold stone floor. He gazed at it in dismay; there had been at least forty rolls of parchment, all sorted by subject and due date, and now they were hopelessly mixed up with one another.

"I'm so sorry," said a voice, and he looked up to see the person with whom he had collided also looking unhappily at the homework. He observed from her robes that she was a Hufflepuff; she looked vaguely familiar, and he concluded that she was probably in his year, and thus was in some of the same classes he was.

"Don't worry about it," he muttered, bending down and beginning to pick up the various rolls of parchment. To his surprise, she helped, observing his system of arranging the work and placing the parchments in the appropriate order.

"Your name's Crouch, right?" she asked. He nodded. "I'm Maude Peterson. What were you doing down here?"

"My homework."

"Ah. Right, of course. Silly of me."

"Why are _you _down here?"

"Same reason. Common room's too loud, dormitory's too dark, and all the girls want to gossip and things. Oh well."

They placed the last of the parchment rolls in a neat pile, and Barty picked all of them up with some difficulty. Maude shifted one roll which had been poking him in the eye.

"Hey," she said, a little hesitantly, "do you want to study together sometime, or something? I have trouble in Transfiguration, and I noticed you're really good at it in class. I can help you out with another subject, if you'd like."

He thought about this. Other students, even other Ravenclaws, often asked for his help with homework; although he was not very popular socially, mainly due to his bizarre and often obsessive personality and his tendency to lose the ability of speech when in large crowds, he was well known as one of the brightest students in the fourth year. Perhaps in Hogwarts in general, actually, as it was not uncommon for fifth and even sixth years to request his assistance on particularly difficult assignments. Initially, he'd been glad to help anyone who asked; it was one of the only ways he could talk to other people without worrying about accidentally offending them or causing them to become bored. Lately, however, his schedule had become packed (he had to use a Time Turner to make it to all of his classes) and he was usually too exhausted to work on any homework but his own.

Maude, though, had offered to help him in return, which had never happened before. It wouldn't take as much time, either, if they helped one another out.

Barty nodded at Maude, dislodging some of the rolls of parchment, which she set back in place, and gave her a small smile.

"I'll see you here after classes tomorrow, then," she said, grinning back at him and then walking past him into the classroom. He returned to the Ravenclaw common room, set down his homework, then went upstairs to the dormitory and collapsed on his bed. Checking his pocket watch, he discovered it was nearly midnight. He wondered vaguely why Maude had begun her homework so late, but before he could come up with any theories he fell asleep.

The next day, while in class, he made an effort to notice what was going on around him and observed that Maude was in most of the same classes he was. She seemed to be well liked in Hufflepuff. Many of her housemates approached her after the classes, presumably to ask her to chat or go do something with them, but Barty noticed that she politely turned down every one of these offers. Although she acted in a perfectly friendly manner towards her fellow students, she did not seem inclined to pursue any extracurricular activities with any of them. Barty found this behavior mystifying, as he personally would welcome any chance to spend time with people who were interested in him for reasons other than his academic proficiency.

After all the classes of the day were done, Barty took his homework down to the dungeon classroom he'd visited the previous day. Maude was already there, setting up her homework at one of the desks. He joined her, and they worked in near silence for the better part of five hours. They only spoke to comment on one another's work, or to ask for the other's opinion on their own. Once all of the homework was complete, they said a perfunctory farewell and departed to their respective dormitories.

This arrangement continued without variation for several weeks, until the Christmas holidays arrived – the Headmaster had decided to start them a few days early this year, due to the war going on outside Hogwarts. Most of the students' parents wanted as much time as possible with their children, considering the dangerous nature of the times.

Barty decided to stay at Hogwarts for the duration of the break; although he was the only Ravenclaw staying, and the castle would be close to deserted, near isolation was preferable to returning home to his cold, distant father and frail mother who was possibly going senile. He figured it was better to be alone by himself than alone in a crowd, particularly if the crowd was his family.

On the first day of the break, he stood at a window and watched as most of Hogwarts's students departed. He spent a few hours in his dormitory, completing any work he had remaining, and then a few more alternately reading a book of fiction and watching the snow fall outside. Eventually he wandered down to the Great Hall, where a single long table was set up. The staff, and the few students who were remaining at the school for Christmas, were seated there.

As Barty came over to the table, he was very surprised to notice Maude sitting next to Professor Slughorn. She looked a little pale, and he wondered if she had been up late doing homework, just as he had. He slid onto the empty seat next to her and gave her a small smile.

"Hey, Barty," she said cheerfully, "I didn't know you were staying here for Christmas."

He shrugged, wanting very much to ask Maude why _she _was staying, but worrying that it might be a sensitive subject. Before he could make up his mind whether to ask or not, Slughorn engaged Maude in a conversation about her apparently exemplary recent work in Potions, and the opportunity was gone. Mentally cursing himself for not being more decisive, Barty gazed down at his plate for a while, and straightened the utensils until they were precisely parallel with one another. When this became boring, he looked around the table to see which students apart from him and Maude were staying at the castle over the holidays.

Two seventh year Gryffindors he didn't know by name, and one equally unknown second year from the same house, sat across the table from him. A third-year Hufflepuff, who Barty thought was named Dirk Cresswater or Cresswell, was at one end of the table. At the other was a greasy-haired, taciturn Slytherin sixth-year whose name, according to the tag sticking out of the back of his robe collar, was S. Snape. Apart from that the table was occupied only by professors and other staff members.

Although Slughorn talked with Maude throughout most of the meal, on the few occasions he ceased doing so (either to eat or to talk with the boy whose name was possibly Cresswell), Barty attempted to start up a conversation with the girl. Unfortunately, the various conversation starters he came up with never managed to make it as far as becoming actual speech.

Eventually, everyone left the great hall and returned to their respective common rooms and staff rooms. Barty went upstairs to the empty Ravenclaw dormitory and started reading a book, but he couldn't focus on it and eventually just lay down on his bed, feeling stressed. He was in his fourth year at Hogwarts and still did not know anyone well enough to call them a friend rather than an acquaintance. There had to be a reason for this, presumably, but he couldn't think what it was; he was shy, yes, but so were a lot of the other students, and they all had at least a few friends.

And now he'd probably messed things up with Maude, sitting next to her throughout a whole meal and not saying a single word. Barty hugged the heavy book he'd been attempting to read close to his chest and tried to imagine it was a person. This didn't work very well, particularly when a corner of its cover dug painfully into his arm. Regardless of the discomfort, he squeezed the book tighter as a few tears trickled down from his eyes and fell silently onto the bed.

After a half hour or so, Barty got up and put away his book. He shut the dormitory curtains and then went back to bed. Before he fell asleep, he promised himself that no matter how nervous the concept might make him, he would definitely talk to Maude sometime during the next day.


	2. Chapter 2

Early in the morning, after he'd eaten a hurried breakfast in the common room, he went to look for Maude in the Great Hall. On the way there he was intercepted by Professor Slughorn.

"I say, Barty! Have a moment to do your old professor a favor?"

Barty did not reply at once, and Slughorn apparently took this as agreement. "Wonderful! As it so happens, my supply of aconite is running low. Usually Hagrid collects it for me, but he's busy with the Christmas decorations today, so it'd be lovely if you'd get some for me instead. It grows around the edges of the Forest. You can leave it in my office after you've gathered a good quantity."

Barty nodded and then continued down the hall. He supposed he'd have to speak to Maude later. As he thought this, however, the Hufflepuff girl appeared from a corridor on the left.

"Hello," she said, smiling. He stood staring at her and trying to force himself to say something. Her expression changed to one of slight puzzlement. "Are you quite alright? You look funny."

"Yes," he replied jerkily. Then he abruptly added, "Professor Slughorn asked me to go and collect aconite near the Forbidden Forest, would you like to come along?"

Maude looked suddenly unhappy. "Oh. No, don't think I ought to."

"That's fine," Barty stammered, quite mortified with himself. "I shouldn't have asked. It was a stupid idea, anyway, who wants to go looking for aconite?" He laughed rather hysterically.

"No, no, it's not that. It's not you. Just… you probably shouldn't get to know me too well."

Whatever he'd been expecting her to say, it wasn't that. "What do you mean?"

"Nothing. I'm sorry, Barty." She looked close to tears. He was completely bewildered.

"Maude, I don't – I'm sorry, I'm really sorry. What's wrong?"

"Don't apologize," she sniffed. "Said it wasn't you. Guess I can't keep this up. We shouldn't study together anymore. Barty, I'm going to die."

"_What?"_

"I'm ill," she explained, looking down at her hands, which were clasped in front of her. "It's genetic, I've had it my whole life, and it's terminal. That's why I don't want to get to know you better, because then you'll be sad when I… you know. Kick it."

Barty didn't know what to say. He felt awful about unintentionally reminding Maude of her impending demise. Eventually, though, he asked, "Is that why you don't spend time with the other Hufflepuffs?"

"Yeah. Not sure how long I've got left, but it's probably not much more than a year. Maybe less."

"But then why are you here at Hogwarts? I mean, wouldn't it be better to be with your family, or something?"

"No. They're nice enough, but we're not… close. Sometimes I think they can't stand it to look at me. Don't want to get any closer than they have to, right?"

"I'm sorry." Barty considered that Maude's situation was even worse than his, in a way. His father didn't care about him at all, and never had, but her parents were intentionally rejecting their daughter every time they saw her.

"We don't have to stop studying together." He didn't consider what he'd said until he'd already said it. It made sense, though; Maude seemed to be a nice person and didn't deserve to spend her last year or months alive by herself, and he needed a friend, _any _friend, even one who was going to die shortly. He smiled at her. She looked hesitant.

"No, you don't want to put yourself through that. Probably never lost a friend before; I have, I can tell you it's not fun. Not at all."

"I haven't. I haven't had one to lose. My family and I don't get along either, you know. I think I disappoint them." He felt moderately horrified that he was telling her this, but he couldn't seem to stop himself. With some shock, he realized that in the last few minutes he'd spoken more words than in the past several months, and more _consecutive _words than in… he couldn't even remember when he'd talked for this long. "Please come and look for aconite with me. We can act like you never said any of this if you like."

She stared at him, uncertain. "Are you sure…?"

"Yes, positive. Come on, let's go." Maude hesitated a few seconds longer, then slowly walked over to him. They proceeded side by side out of the castle.

Over the rest of Christmas break, Maude and Barty spent a lot of time together. They played wizard chess and discussed the various classes, and on occasion visited Hogsmeade. On Christmas morning, Maude appeared outside the entrance to the Ravenclaw common room carrying all her presents, and Barty, surprised but happy to see her, let her in immediately.

After they'd opened the presents and had a small breakfast of eggs and streaky bacon, they sat next to one another on a couch and watched the fire that crackled merrily in the common room's large marble fireplace. Barty thought vaguely that the fire had no right to be so happy. He was slightly depressed by the bland Christmas card his parents had sent along with their present of a sizable book on politics, although his mood was not too bad due to the presence of his friend. Maude picked up the book in question and tossed it back and forth lazily.

"D'you like this stuff?" she inquired after a while.

"What, that? No. I'll probably never read it; it's just that my father would like me to have a Ministry career, like he does, and my mother goes along with what he says." Barty sighed, slumping a little on the couch. "I work so hard in all my classes, just so I won't disappoint him, and then when I get perfect grades he doesn't react. He just expects it, he figures I'm clever and so naturally I should be doing this well."

"Well, you are clever," Maude pointer out. "You're an effing genius. If you don't want to have a Ministry career, though, why do you even bother working that hard? I mean, for most jobs you only need a few specific O.W.L.s."

"I don't know. I'm afraid to see what my father would say if I failed an exam, or even got a bad grade on an assignment."

"What – you've never failed a test before?"

"No. Never. I don't know why. They always expected me to succeed at everything remotely academic, and I can't force myself to disappoint them. Sometimes I want to tell them they're killing me here, just sort of scream at them until they understand. Most likely I'd end up with a sore throat, though, as I doubt they'd actually get what I was talking about."

Maude sniggered.

"What?"

"Sort of funny phrasing, that's all. You're so literal, Barty."

"Sorry."

"I don't _mind_, for goodness sake. I said I thought it was funny. I know what you mean, though. Like to do the same thing to my family, sometimes. Anyway, let's forget about that. Have a lovely day. It's Christmas."

"Alright," he agreed, and for the next few hours they talked, played exploding snap, and went on a stroll through the snow-covered grounds. By the time they decided to head back to the castle for lunch, Barty was in a cheerful mood, and had nearly managed to forget about being upset earlier. Maude seemed to be in similarly high spirits, and was telling her friend about a time in her second year when she'd walked in on Madame Pomfrey snogging Professor Flitwick in a deserted classroom, when she suddenly fell silent. Barty turned around to see the Hufflepuff girl standing hunched over, clutching her chest with both hands. Her skin was very pale.

She was swaying slightly, and he grabbed her shoulders as she seemed about to fall over.

"Maude, come on, we're going to the hospital wing," he told her, trying to keep his voice steady. She nodded, wincing slightly, and leaned quite heavily on him as they slowly proceeded to the castle doors and down a selection of corridors. Barty had some trouble supporting his friend; although she was quite a lot shorter than he was, she was rather plump, and currently seemed almost completely unable to hold herself up.

They reached the hospital wing, and Barty deposited Maude on a bed. He called Madame Pomfrey over, and was subsequently banished from the room by the clearly concerned witch. He paced back and forth outside the doors, counting the cracks in the stone floor, for what seemed to him like forever but was in fact about two and a half hours. He had completely forgotten about lunch. Finally, Madame Pomfrey opened the doors of the hospital wing.

"Oh, you're still here," she said, apparently somewhat surprised by his presence. "She's fine for now, you can come and talk to her if you'd like."

He nodded and walked very quickly through the doors and over to the bed where Maude sat up, propped against some pillows. She was still pale, but apart from that she appeared to have recovered.

"Sorry about that," she said, grinning wryly at him. "Chest pains. They're gone now. Nothing to worry about, happens all the time."

He was not reassured. "I've never seen you act like that before."

"Yeah, well, before they've always shown up while I was in my dormitory, so…"

"Will you be alright? I mean, has Madame Pomfrey fixed whatever was wrong?"

Maude didn't answer, and she wouldn't look him in the eye.

"Maude. What is it?"

She sighed. "It's the illness I told you about before. Didn't used to have attacks like this as much. It's getting worse."

"What's the illness called?"

"Tredwick's syndrome, it's a wizarding illness, muggles don't get it… But if you're thinking of trying to find a cure, there isn't one, people have been studying it for ages and I even went to St. Mungo's. No one can do anything."

Barty nodded, but didn't speak.

"I mean it, Barty. Don't waste your time trying to come up with a cure. I'd rather pretend I don't need one for as long as I can."

"Okay," he said softly. He pulled a chair over to the side of Maude's bed, and arranged it so that it was facing at an exact right angle to the bed frame. "So – you were telling me about Professor Flitwick."

For the remainder of Christmas break, Barty didn't mention illness or death at all while in Maude's presence. When he was alone, however, he spent almost all his time researching the syndrome afflicting his friend. He lost several nights of sleep sneaking down to the dungeons and creating experimental potions. None of them worked when he tested them on conjured mice, and he was forced to admit that despite his best efforts to discover a cure, he had not gotten anything even approaching a positive result.

Term resumed, and the rest of the students returned to Hogwarts. Barty's grades dropped from virtually perfect to merely exceptional as he tried with mediocre success to fit study with Maude, vast amounts of homework, and research and experiments on Tredwick's syndrome into his already hectic schedule. He spent most days in a half-doze, and went from speaking only rarely, to not speaking at all to anyone besides Maude. His friend was not oblivious to the situation.

"What's going on with you, Barty?" she asked him one night as they gathered up their completed homework. It took him a second to realize she'd spoken, and then another to process what she'd said.

"Nothing," he replied. "I'm just tired. Lots of homework and all…"

"Yeah, sure. Don't think that's it. I've noticed you're not talking (not that you were ever really communicative) and you've lost weight (not that you weren't scrawny to begin with) and both Slughorn and McGonagall have been looking oddly at you in class (not that they didn't always think you were odd). You've even stopped going to Quidditch matches, which is alarming, because I've never seen you miss even one before now. Is this because of my… thing? Said it wasn't a good idea for you to become friends with me. If you want to stop now I don't mind."

"Maude, there's no problem. We're still friends as long as you want to be."

"Okay, fine. Just don't want you getting hurt on my account – you might not want to spend time with me anymore but you wouldn't say it because you don't want to upset me." She sounded slightly choked up.

"I won't do that. I promise, I'd tell you if spending time with you was bothering me." She still appeared distressed, and he wondered if he should pat her on the shoulder or something, or whether that would be too forward. He compromised by patting her wrist. She looked askance at him.

"What the hell, Barty?"

"Sorry."

"For what, exactly? I mean, what was that anyway?"

"Never mind," he muttered, regretting that he hadn't just gone with his initial idea of patting her shoulder. It would have been less weird. He and Maude left the dungeon classroom and returned to their respective dormitories.


	3. Chapter 3

The next day, Barty paced in a perfectly symmetrical circle around the deserted astronomy tower and debated mentally about what he could do to find a cure for Maude. His first thought was that he should ask Lily Evans, a Gryffindor sixth year with a talent at potions, for assistance, but he discarded the idea almost at once. Evans, being a Gryffindor and popular and friendly, would certainly want to know why he was looking for a cure for this particular syndrome. He tried to think of other people who were skilled in potions, but due to his introverted habits did not know of any.

After the potions class that day, he went up to Slughorn and asked if he could have a quick word.

"Of course you may. I must ask, is this about the recent decline of your work in class? It's not good, Barty, I have to say. One has to wonder if you've taken on more work than you can handle!"

"No, Professor, I don't believe so. I wanted to inquire about –"

"Not work, eh? Oho!" The professor suddenly winked at him in an alarming manner. "Perhaps it's a girl? Met someone special, have you?"

Barty began to say that yes, in fact he had, but then realized that Slughorn was probably not talking about a friend. He shook his head violently.

"_No_, Professor. I suppose I've been overtired recently. Anyway, sir, if you don't mind, I'd like to ask you a question."

"Ask away, my dear chap, ask away."

"Thank you. Is there any student apart from Lily Evans who's especially good at potions?"

"And apart from yourself, I gather. Well, yes, there's Severus Snape – a rather grim young fellow, but he's certainly talented. Why? Looking for some help with class?"

"Yes," replied Barty, feeling that this was close enough to the truth. "Thank you very much for your help, sir."

He left the classroom and wandered in the direction of the Slytherin common room, looking for Snape. He remembered seeing the older boy during Christmas break, so when he came upon a group of three sixth year Slytherins, he immediately recognized Snape among them. They were talking in low voices and looked somewhat suspicious.

Barty hesitated for a moment, then walked over and nodded at Snape. The greasy haired boy looked slightly taken aback.

"What do you want?" he asked, in a less-than-courteous tone.

"Professor Slughorn told me you were very talented at potions," Barty replied awkwardly. Snape and the other two Slytherins stared at him.

"Yes?" Snape said, eventually.

"I was wondering if you'd be willing to help me out with some potions research."

"Why would I want to do something like that?"

"I'd help you out with other subjects," offered Barty, inwardly cringing at the thought of spending even more time on homework. Despite using his time turner as much as he possibly could without attracting the attention of the Ministry, he was still trying to pack more into his schedule than he really had time for. He was lucky if he managed to get four hours of sleep per night.

Snape gazed at him with black, emotionless eyes. Finally, he shrugged. "Very well. I suppose I have nothing better to do."

"Seriously, Snape? It sounds boring as hell to me," commented one of the two Slytherins standing nearby. The other one, however, shot Snape an understanding glance and muttered something to the first Slytherin. Barty didn't catch most of what he said, but the name 'Lily Evans' was just audible.

"When shall we begin this research?" inquired Snape with apparent disinterest.

"Right now would be nice."

"Fine. I'll see you later, Mulciber. Avery." He nodded at the Slytherins and followed Barty towards one of the dungeon classrooms that was stocked with potion ingredients.

Once they arrived, Snape set down the bag of books he was holding and turned to Barty. "What precisely do you wish to research?"

"Er. Er, cures for Tredwick's syndrome. I'm aware that there aren't any as yet, but I'd like to find one."

Snape stared at him. "And why would you want to develop a cure for this particular ailment? If you're intending to become famous for making a medical breakthrough, there are numerous other terminal, wizard-specific diseases available, many of which are far more common than the one you refer to."

"It's a hobby," said Barty, shortly. He hoped that his reputation for being generally weird would make this explanation sound plausible at least. Judging by the incredulous smirk on Snape's sallow features, it did not, but the older boy made no further comments. Instead, he pulled out a few select books from his bag, including a battered copy of _Advanced Potion Making_.

For the next few hours Snape and Barty experimented with different combinations of previously existing potions, and tried inventing several original potions as well. They tested the solutions on conjured mice, but none of them had any positive effect. One of the potions they had come up with themselves caused a mouse to explode.

"It would appear that we are done," commented Snape idly as he brushed some burnt fur off his hooked nose.

"Would you be willing to come back tomorrow and try again?" Barty asked, picking up the History of Magic homework he'd agreed to do for Snape in return for the other student's help.

"I suppose."

"Great. Thank you very much." Snape merely nodded and swept out of the dungeon, his bag of books slung over one shoulder. Barty sighed, and then began to correct the homework. Once he finished, he did his own homework, and then spent some time researching various muggle diseases which were roughly equivalent in their effects to the syndrome Maude suffered from. By the time he was finished, it was morning, and he had to go off to Transfiguration class.

Barty managed to stay awake and alert throughout the day with the help of some pumpkin juice transfigured into coffee. He went to classes, studied with Maude, theorized with Snape, did homework, and studied illnesses some more. He did not get any sleep that night either. The next two days followed the same pattern, although he found it exceedingly difficult to pay attention in class.

On the following day, he accidently dozed off during Divination class. No one really noticed, as he was sitting in the back of the room and the class was devoted entirely to lectures by the teacher. At the end of the lesson, both the students and the teacher departed. Thus, it was not until several hours later, when Argus Filch came into the classroom to clean, that he woke up.

After apologizing profusely to Filch, Barty ran out of the classroom and down the steps towards the castle's exit; he had missed three classes already, and Care of Magical Creatures was about to begin. Unfortunately, he was still somewhat disoriented from being asleep, and tripped on one of the staircases. He fell down quite a lot of stairs before coming to a halt on a landing. Starting to get up, he felt a sharp pain in his left shin and immediately dropped back to the ground. When, wincing, he carefully prodded at the leg, he discovered that it was broken.

Barty lay back on the stone floor and tried to breathe deeply and evenly. Black spots swam across his field of vision. He concentrated on mentally reciting the differences that distinguished werewolves from normal wolves. By the time he had repeated the differences twenty-three times, a student finally wandered by.

"What are you doing on the floor?" the student inquired with some amusement.

"I need to get – get to the hospital wing," Barty hissed between gritted teeth. The student, a handsome Gryffindor sixth year with long black hair, stopped smiling and bent down next to him.

"Why? What happened?"

"Fell down the stairs. Think I broke my leg."

The student nodded a few times and then took out his wand, using it to cast a localized petrifying spell on Barty's shin. He slung one of Barty's arms over his own shoulders and helped the younger boy up. Very carefully, they proceeded in the direction of the hospital wing.

"What made you fall down the stairs? Did someone spill pumpkin juice on them, or something?" inquired the sixth year.

"No – tripped. Who're you?"

"The name's Sirius. Nice to meet you." Sirius attempted to shake Barty's hand, but this caused them both to nearly lose their balance. "Whoops, sorry. You're that Crouch kid, yeah? My friend Peter was going on and on about how you helped him out studying for the O.W.L.s last year."

They arrived at the hospital wing, and Sirius escorted Barty over to a bed. "I'll get Pomfrey, and then I'm off to History of Magic," the sixth year said.

"You aren't late because of this, are you?" asked Barty, who was feeling rather better now he was lying down again.

"Maybe by a couple of minutes, but don't worry about it. Old Binns will never notice. I could probably miss the whole _class _and he wouldn't notice. Well, ta." The sixth year gave a jaunty little wave and left, opening a side door along the way and calling for Madame Pomfrey. The nurse arrived a few seconds after the hospital wing doors swung shut behind Sirius.

She inspected Barty's injury before announcing that his shin was indeed broken, in several places as it so happened. "I can heal it easily enough, but you should remain in the hospital wing for a couple of days; I'm worried about your health in general. Have you had trouble sleeping recently?"

He nodded, thinking that this was quite an impressive understatement. Madame Pomfrey recommended a potion that would help him fall asleep. He thanked her, and did not enlighten her as to the actual cause of his lack of rest.

Later that day, Maude arrived in the hospital wing to visit him. Her face looked drawn, possibly from concern, but Barty suspected her appearance was due to her illness.

"Heard you fell down the staircase," she said, pulling a chair over to the side of his bed. "You all right?"

"Fine, thank you for asking. I have to stay in the hospital wing for a few days, though; will that mess up our studying together? I mean, if it's inconvenient for you to drag all your homework up here, then obviously don't bother, but I just thought you might like to try and keep it up, considering…"

She smiled and held up a canvas bag. "Brought the homework. Of course I'd like to keep studying with you."

They completed Maude's homework without much trouble, and Barty was contemplating asking Madame Pomfrey if he could have his own work sent up, when the nurse came over to his bed. "You've been doing homework? I thought I told you that you need to _rest_. Sorry, Ms. Peterson, but I'm going to have to cut your visit short."

Maude nodded and stood up, packing the completed homework into her bag. "See you later, Barty."

"Goodbye," Barty replied. He watched as Maude made her way out the doors of the hospital wing. It might have been a trick of the light, but he thought she looked thinner and more slumped over than usual.

"No more homework today," Madame Pomfrey informed him, as the doors swung shut behind Maude. With an effort, he looked away them and focused on the nurse.

"I don't want to fall behind on classes."

"Don't worry about that – I shall notify your teachers of what has occurred, and I'm sure they'll understand if you miss turning in a few assignments. Now _go to sleep!_" She left, waving her wand to dim the lights.

He did as she said, and didn't awaken until eight the next morning. Initially, he tried to convince her to let him complete at least _some _work, but she refused unconditionally, and eventually he gave up. The rest of the day passed uneventfully.

Maude did not appear at the usual time, which he found somewhat surprising. As the hours passed, and it became clear she was not going to show up, he felt more and more depressed. Perhaps, he thought, she'd decided to spend the remainder of her short life with people who were more interesting than he was, or who were less awkward at carrying on a conversation. He was actually starting to tear up when the doors of the hospital wing swung open.

Barty wiped his eyes on his sleeve and sat up. He was startled to observe Snape, followed by the sixth year Slytherins Mulciber and Avery, entering the hospital wing. They were carrying a large number of books, which they set down beside his bed.

"I assumed you would wish to continue the research," Snape said, indifferently.

"What? I mean – yes, of course, but it won't – I can't do your History of Magic homework. Madame Pomfrey hasn't let me do any work today at all."

"It doesn't matter. As I mentioned earlier, I have nothing better to do."

Barty stared at him. Snape looked off in another direction and sighed impatiently. "Do you want to continue, or not?"

"Right – yes. Thank you."

"I'll see you at dinner, then," Mulciber told Snape before walking out of the room.

"Will you need help carrying these books out when you're through with them?" Avery asked, indicating the large piles of tomes that surrounded them

"I believe I can handle them," Snape replied. Avery nodded, smiling, before saying farewell and departing after Mulciber. Snape turned to Barty. "We cannot create any potions here, obviously, but studying theory is more practicable. Let us begin with this." He placed a large and very heavy book on the night table beside the bed, and extracted a thin black notepad from his pocket. Opening the book, he flipped through the notepad to find an empty page. Barty noticed that almost half of the pages were already used. Peering curiously at them as Snape leafed hurriedly through the pad, Barty saw that they were covered with a single name, 'Lily', written over and over again. Snape glanced at him and he immediately looked away, privately wondering why the older boy had chosen to waste so much of a perfectly good notepad in this fashion.

They came up with a number of ideas, which they decided to test when Barty was able to leave the hospital wing. Eventually Snape left, levitating the books he'd brought in front of him as he went. Barty decided not to think about Maude if he could avoid it, and read the lengthy list of ingredients on the bone healing potion Madame Pomfrey had left on his night table.


	4. Chapter 4

Maude did not show up the next day either. Snape did, accompanied by Mulciber; apparently Avery was in detention for levitating some chewed pieces of Drooble's gum right through Professor Binns. Mulciber didn't stay long, and soon Barty and Snape were alone in the room, once again debating various theoretical potions.

The day after that, Madame Pomfrey told Barty he could leave the hospital wing and resume his regular schedule, although she told him to make sure he got an acceptable amount of sleep. He ran to the Ravenclaw dormitories and got his bag of school supplies, and then headed to Transfiguration, the first class of the day.

Upon arriving in Professor McGonagall's classroom he took a seat at a desk near the back of the room. The rest of the class filed in over the next few minutes, and Professor McGonagall took her place at the front of the room. As she began explaining the assignment for the class, Barty noticed that something was missing. It took him a minute to work out what it was; Maude was not present.

She was not present in any of Barty's other classes throughout the day either. After the last class was over, he went to the Charms classroom to speak to Professor Flitwick.

"Hello," the Charms professor squeaked, as Barty knocked on the classroom's half-open door. "Can I help you with something?"

"Yes. Professor, I'm looking for Maude Peterson; she wasn't in her regular classes today, and I wondered if you knew where she was."

"Ms. Peterson? No, I'm afraid not. Perhaps Professor Sprout would know; she is the head of Hufflepuff house."

"Right – thank you, Professor."

"Don't mention it!" Flitwick chirped happily as he departed. Barty, on the other hand, was far from happy – he was beginning to feel extremely worried. The possibility that Maude had not been avoiding him, but was instead in some sort of trouble, probably relating to her illness, was beginning to seem more likely as the day went on. He went down to the greenhouses, and searched both Greenhouse One and Greenhouse Two before finally locating Professor Sprout in Greenhouse Three. The Herbology professor was pruning a number of Venomous Tentacula plants.

"Hello, Professor, may I ask you a question?" asked Barty without preamble.

"Of course. What do you want to know?"

"A Hufflepuff friend of mine, Maude Peterson, hasn't been in class all day. Do you happen to know where she is?"

Sprout's normally friendly face suddenly took on a somewhat closed expression. "I do, but I'm afraid I can't tell you. Sorry."

"Does this have something to do with her illness?" Barty asked directly. He could tell by the way Sprout's bushy eyebrows shot up into her flyaway hair that his guess had been correct.

"She told you about that?" the squat witch inquired.

"Yes – it was during Christmas break, there was a misunderstanding and she said she had Tredwick's syndrome. Look, please, I'm not going to tell anyone about it, I just want to know if she's alright."

Sprout's expression had changed from surprised to rather sad. "Ah. Well. I'm sorry, but no, she isn't. She's been in St. Mungo's since the day before yesterday. It doesn't look good; in fact, it looks as though she won't recover this time," the Herbology professor finished quietly.

"Thank you," said Barty, numbly. He turned and walked back to the castle, and then to the Ravenclaw dormitory, where he left his bag. Departing the common room and heading in the direction of the Headmaster's office, he passed Snape and Avery going in the opposite direction. Snape started to say something to him, but he ignored the sixth year and continued on his way.

As he approached the stone gargoyle that marked the entrance to the Headmaster's office, Barty stopped abruptly and leaned against a wall. The fact that Maude was going to die had finally hit him. Yes, he'd known it would happen ever since they agreed to be friends, but it had been a distant, vague event, never seeming quite real. Yet now, with Sprout's matter-of-fact statement repeating in his mind, he couldn't ignore the fact that this was really happening, that his friend was actually about to leave him, and everyone else, permanently.

Barty clenched his hands into fists and stood away from the wall, swaying slightly. He remained like this for quite a while, until the gargoyle further down the corridor leapt aside and Professor Dumbledore emerged from the resultant doorway.

"Bartemius. What are you doing here?" asked Dumbledore, smiling at him.

Barty was silent for a second, trying to pull himself together, before he replied, "I need to take some time off from school." He sincerely hoped that the Headmaster would not ask why he needed the time off; it had been difficult enough for him to tell Sprout about his friendship with Maude. His rather introverted personality was quite strongly repelled by the idea of telling anyone else about such a sensitive matter.

Dumbledore looked at him with an expression that was slightly more knowing than Barty would have liked, blue eyes twinkling behind half-moon glasses. "Of course. I shall explain to my colleagues that you will be absent for a short while."

"Thank you, sir," Barty said rather mechanically, before walking quite quickly away down the corridor. He glanced back once to see Dumbledore watching him.

Floo powder enabled him to travel to the Ministry of Magic in London, and from there he walked to St. Mungo's. The welcome witch in the front room of the hospital told him where to find Maude. As he arrived in the hallway outside his friend's room, he saw a grim-looking Healer speaking to a pair of solemn adults who somewhat resembled Maude. After hesitating for a second, worried that he wouldn't be allowed to enter his friend's room, or worse yet, that he was too late and she'd already died, he approached the three people.

They turned to look at him, and he noted that both Maude's parents – as he assumed the middle-aged couple were – appeared slightly surprised. The Healer just looked tired.

"Hello," Barty said, his voice slightly higher than normal. "Mr. and Mrs. Peterson?"

"Yes," replied the woman, Mrs. Peterson, guardedly.

"I'm a friend of Maude's from school," he explained, and then went quiet. He quite suddenly found himself unable to speak. The Petersons stared at him with morbid curiosity. It was almost comical, he reflected somewhat hysterically, that he'd spent all this time worrying about Maude, researching ways to help her, and traveling here, only to be delayed or even stopped by a ridiculous lack of social skills.

"Er – er – may I please go into the room?" he finally managed to stammer. He would have been proud of this, as he'd never before succeeded in continuing to speak after being hit by his unreasonable nervous speechlessness complex, but he was too afraid that Maude might be dead or dying at the present time.

Mr. and Mrs. Peterson looked at one another, their expressions almost emotionless. Mr. Peterson shrugged. "You can go in," he answered.

Barty immediately moved into the room, shutting the door behind him. The dim lighting made it difficult to discern his surroundings, but he could tell that no one was in the room except for himself and Maude, who lay on a bed in the center of the room. Some part of Barty's subconscious noted approvingly that the bed was in the _exact _center, positioned precisely the same distance from either wall. He walked over to the bedside and gazed down at Maude.

"Hey. Barty," she whispered, giving him a small, surprised smile. Her normally round face was sunken and her skin was a sickly pallid yellow.

"Hello," he replied tersely.

"How did you know I was here?"

"You weren't in class or at meals. I guessed."

"Right. Shouldn't be surprised. You're a genius after all."

"I'm not." Barty pulled a chair over to the side of the bed, setting it at a perfect right angle. "I tried to figure out a cure. It didn't work."

"Told you not to do that," she sighed, but she didn't seem particularly bothered. "Glad you showed up. Healer hasn't said anything explicit, but I don't think I've got much more than a couple of hours. Maybe less."

He didn't reply, but looked down at the floor and sniffed. She moved her hand and, with an effort, lifted it up to hold his. Eventually, he asked, "Are they doing anything for you here?"

"Sure. Healer cast a numbing spell on me, so my chest won't hurt so much. Stupid sick lungs. Put a stone on that stand there. See how it's glowing? When it goes out I'm dead. Suppose they put it there in case I fall asleep and don't…" She trailed off.

"Have your parents already said goodbye, or something?"

"Yeah. Don't want to stay in here for when it actually happens, I suppose. Shouldn't say I blame them, but I do. Shallow old bastards." She laughed softly, but it turned into a wheezing cough. Barty didn't find it funny at all.

"Do you mind if I stay?" he asked, his voice sounding choked up.

"Not at all, if you like. Nice to have someone here. I should be terrified, I suppose, but I'm not. Dunno why. Numbing spell probably went to my head."

"That can't be the case. The Healer would have been careful to localize the effect."

Maude rolled her eyes. "Do you think I care? Just making conversation… jeez."

"Sorry."

"Don't apologize. It'd stink if the last thing you got to say to me was 'sorry', no?"

Privately, Barty thought it would be rather appropriate, given his unsuccessful attempts at developing a cure, but he didn't voice this opinion. He did _not _want the last thing he said to Maude to be a disagreement.

"D'you know anything about mythology?" asked Maude abruptly.

"Which one?"

"Whatever. Norse, Aztec, not Greek, though."

"I suppose so. Binns mentioned Norse mythology frequently in the third year."

"Did he really? I wouldn't know, I slept through most of History of Magic. Anyway – I assume you heard about Ragnarok and all that?"

"Yes."

"Hm. Just been thinking about that, end-of-the-world kind of stuff, lately. Might sound awful, but I was thinking it would be a lot easier to feel calm about dying if everyone else would die at the same time. Is that just me?"

"Possibly. I haven't thought about it before."

"Not saying I actually want the world to end," Maude clarified, "but you know… Actually, right now I find it hard to care. The world can bloody well end as far as I'm concerned, I won't be around to notice. Selfish, I suppose."

"No, I don't think so," Barty replied, sincerely. "You can intellectually not want the world to end, but still emotionally not care at all, or even want it to happen."

"Think so? Probably right. Ah well." Maude's voice had been growing gradually quieter as she spoke, until Barty had trouble hearing it even when he leaned in very close to listen. She had shut her eyes, and looked extremely tired. Barty was suddenly afraid she'd died just then, but he glanced at the stone on the stand beside the bed and saw that it was still dimly glowing. Still, it was clear Maude was not going to last much longer.

"Would you like me to get your parents?" he asked.

"Nah. No real reason to. I don't give a damn. Stick around, Barty, okay?"

"Okay."

She didn't say anything else. The stone's glow slowly faded until only a tiny spark was left in its very center. After a while, Barty realized even that had gone out, and Maude's hand was growing cold in his own. He shakily released it and placed it on her chest.

Getting up, he pulled the chair back to its original position in the room and then returned to the side of the bed. Oddly, he felt no particular urge to cry. He moved a strand of Maude's hair from one side of her face to the other, so that she had the same amount of hair on both sides, and then bent down and hugged her around the shoulders. After a few seconds he let go and walked out of the room.

The Healer, waiting at the door, looked questioningly at Barty, who shook his head. The Healer nodded grimly and entered the room. Barty headed off down the hall, towards the exit. As he passed Mr. and Mrs. Peterson, he stopped and turned to face them.

"I suppose I should say something consoling to you at this point," he told them, feeling for some reason slightly detached from reality. "I will not do so. Go to hell."

He departed St. Mungo's and made his way to the Ministry. Everything around him still seemed surreal, and a few times he wondered if all of what had recently happened was just a dream. Arriving back at Hogwarts, he proceeded to the Ravenclaw dormitory.

As he entered the room, he was accosted by a fellow fourth-year, who started to ask him for some help with Arithmancy homework. Unexpectedly, Barty felt suddenly furious. He actually pulled his wand out, for what purpose he wasn't entirely sure, and the student backed away rather quickly.

"Oi! It was just a question..."

"Leave me alone," said Barty. He raised his wand, noting with detached interest that his hand was shaking rather badly. Judging from the expression on the student's face, he gathered that he looked relatively alarming. The student gave an indistinct exclamation and threw a newspaper at him, presumably to distract him from casting a spell, and then darted off down the stairs.

Barty caught the newspaper and walked quickly into the dormitory, where he threw the paper on the floor and threw himself onto his bed. The realization that Maude was dead finally got through to him, and he sobbed into the sheets for a considerable time. He wished the world would end so she'd have someone to die with.

He wasn't sure how much time had passed before he managed to calm down. Sitting up in the bed, he thought morbidly that perhaps it was good he'd never gotten close to his parents; they were both getting on in years, and this way he wouldn't miss them as much when they died. Possibly, he reflected, it was best not to become attached to anyone at all – but then he remembered how much he'd enjoyed spending time with Maude, talking to her, playing chess and doing homework, and he didn't think he could deal with not having anyone to be close to. Remembering Maude made him break down again, and by the time he recovered it was dark out.

What he needed, Barty considered, was a friend who wouldn't die before he did – assuming he could get over Maude's death, which seemed unlikely at the moment. If he did, though… it should be someone younger than he was, perhaps. On second thought he decided age made almost no difference; too many people died of unnatural causes, particularly during the present war against Voldemort. He reflected on the famous saying 'better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all', but found he couldn't agree with it; he would have wished he'd never met Maude if it was only himself who was involved. As it was, he was glad he'd known her so that she'd had someone to stay with her when she died.

Wiping his eyes, he looked down at the neat, symmetrical piles of books next to his bed, deciding to try and distract himself with some reading; he doubted the strategy would work, but it was worth a try. His gaze fell on the newspaper he'd thrown to the floor earlier. It had a large, flashing headline. He picked it up.

_**The Death Eaters Strike Again**_, it read. In smaller print slightly below the headline, it added, _**Will You-Know-Who's Reign of Terror Never End? The Followers of the Seemingly Undefeatable Dark Wizard Cause Twelve More Deaths.**_ Barty stared at the page, and then began reading the article, which was apparently written by someone called Rita Skeeter. It was mainly devoted to lamenting the fact that as of yet, no attempts to defeat Voldemort had been successful, and then berating the Aurors and political figures who had managed the attacks for their lack of progress. Barty noted with mild interest that his father was mentioned as one of the ineffective politicians. He was more interested, however, in Skeeter's apparent conviction that Voldemort was effectively impossible to defeat.

He finished the article, and lay back on his bed, thinking. Of course Voldemort was hardly a possibility for a new friend – the very thought was ridiculous. The article had given him some ideas, however. Someone who was skilled in various forms of magic was less likely to be killed, and less likely to die in an accident. At first he couldn't think of anyone close to his age who was as talented in that respect as he himself was; but on further reflection, he remembered Severus Snape's considerable skill at potions.

Yes, Barty reflected, perhaps he would talk to Snape in a few days. No one would ever be as good a friend as Maude, he assumed, but maybe, just maybe, it was possible to move on. What he needed was someone who would never die.

* * *

Well, there it is. I hope I handled the whole 'terminal illness' subject with appropriate gravity. Anyway, please do review, I'm really unsure about how this story came out and I'd very much appreciate your input, whether positive or negative. Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoyed it.


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